


Say You’ll Remember Me

by commanderclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Love at First Sight, Strangers to Lovers, Titanic AU, Unplanned Pregnancy, but with a slight twist, clarke is a love-sick puppy, like 2/3 flashbacks, primarily flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderclarke/pseuds/commanderclarke
Summary: After convincing Clarke to spare her own life, she finds herself falling for the messy haired boy from third class. If only she knew how much joy and pain he would put her through in a short amount of time.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/John Murphy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	Say You’ll Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first prompt I received for the 100 fic for BLM initiative. I’m more of a slow-burn type of person so it was definitely a challenge writing this, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, I hope you guys like it too !!

It always hit her when the flowers started to bloom, and the snow melted, leaving the ground mushy. When the sun rose earlier and set later. It hit her on the quiet mornings when the streets were void of children, the trees blowing in the wind. 

Some days it was when she was in the kitchen, making sandwiches and prepping dinner. She would pull out a carton of milk and prepare coffee, still setting two cups down knowing only one would be used. 

Or sometimes it came flooding back when she was trying to take a relaxing bath after a long day of work. She would lay there, eyes closed and lean back when a sudden panic attack would take hold, causing her to grasp at her chest. Splashing around like that very day, when she tried so desperately to cling to the door, shivering in the cold. 

Whatever it was, it would hit her. And it would hit her hard. She could never go a day without seeing his face in a crowd full of people or hearing his voice drifting through the tv. It was like he was haunting her. 

Every second of every day. But it hurt the most when her name was called at the doctors, or people asked her where he was. Because even if she was Clarke Murphy now, he was never coming back. The man who owned the name long before her was long gone. Taken by the sea and never to be seen again. Like he was never there in the first place. 

And then of course there was seeing Madi, their daughter. She was Murphy through and through. Brown hair past her shoulders, bright blue eyes that were always filled with happiness. A little mini Murphy. She was smart like him, creative like herself. 

She had the heart of him, always wanting to do good in the world. Make others happy. Even at a young age, Clarke could see how much she already was, and was going to be exactly like him. 

And she loved her daughter. She loved her with every bone in her body and would kill a man if he laid a finger on her. Though some days she watched Madi at the kitchen table, eyebrows furrowed in concentration like her dad would do, and her heart would sink. 

She would watch her dance around the kitchen, singing a song as she waited for her breakfast. Like Murphy had done long ago, singing to an embarrassed Clarke as they walked down the deck. 

No matter how hard she tried, Clarke couldn’t escape it. And of course, she couldn’t explain it to her daughter. She couldn’t explain it to anyone. Because unless the other person had been on that ship, and lost someone, they just wouldn’t understand. 

And even with those similarities, nothing could compare to their story. Meeting just then, only to have Murphy die less than a week later. Drowning in the water, the water that froze so many until they were blue. Then to take his name and give birth to their daughter, with him having no idea of her very existence. It pained her. 

Overall, nothing felt the same after that day. Clarke had tried to move on. She did. But it didn’t feel right. It would never feel right. He was her everything. Her sunshine. Her happiness. 

They went from total strangers to falling in love in days. It had been the happiest Clarke had ever felt. And nothing had come close to that spark in her chest, the heat in her lower stomach. Everything she experienced in those few days stuck to her, she felt those very emotions over and over like she was in the moment. Back in those days in an instant, wherever she was like she was transported onto the boat. 

When that happened she tried to suppress it all. To shove those memories, those feelings deep down back into the core of herself. Some days that would work, she could walk around like herself, seemingly ignoring it all. Other days though, it came crashing back down. Hitting her on those spring days. In the kitchen or bathroom, or at the doctor's office. 

During those split seconds of memories, she would sit there, reminiscing on those few days they had together. Tucked up in blankets, rocking with the ship. In the dining hall on an early morning, eating breakfast. All while trying to convince people Murphy wasn’t third class. 

Letting them flow through her head, holding so much power over her, with a weight that never lifted from her shoulders. She let them hold her down, let them suffocate her for a few minutes. Just so they could go away the next second and she could move on for an hour or so before they came back. 

Unfortunately, an hour had passed, and as it had been one of those treacherous days. Clarke let them wash over her again. Recalling every memory. 

She still remembered the way he smiled at her, the way his face lit up in the moonlight of that first night, with no one around. Or how he picked her up, spinning them both around. Even when everyone was watching, he still did it because he didn’t care. He had fallen in love. 

And so had she. Clarke, the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the city had fallen for Murphy, a boy lower than low. Seen as disgusting in the eyes of her family and friends. A ‘mutt’. But she didn’t care. Not even in the slightest, because to her, he was everything. 

He was a good person, with a heart of gold. Looking out for everyone and everything. Even when the world was against him, for the entirety of his life, he never fell for a second, and Clarke admired him for that. 

Clarke sank onto the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugged a pillow to herself as she let out her tears. Every ounce of strength she had left pouring out, with no care in the world for who saw. 

Because his face flashed through her head so intensely, vividly, that she could no longer stand. Legs too shaky she was afraid she would fall to the floor. To which that would wake her daughter up and Clarke knew that this time, this time she wouldn’t be able to catch herself for Madi. She would lie on the ground sobbing as the young girl stared in confusion and worry. And that was the last thing she wanted. 

So Clarke wept on the sofa, cushion in hand and face dug so far into it that her cries were muffled, and once again, let the memories pull her back under. 

*****

_Clarke couldn’t stop running. She needed to get as far away as possible. She was sick and tired of living her life the way her father wanted. With the perfect house and perfect husband and perfect kids. She hated every aspect of it. It made her sick._

_Then to invite some man to try and convince her to settle down. To try and win her over, to marry her without any form of relationship before. He was trying to set up her life, saying he knew what was best for her._

_She didn’t need a man to survive. Let alone some rich guy that she knew nothing about, and in return, nothing about her._

_Storming out of the hall, Clarke rushed down to the deck, dress held in hand. People stared, watching with a curious eye. Silently judging her, without any knowledge of who she was or what was going on. Though they wouldn’t take her seriously. They wouldn’t do anything other than laugh. And laugh they would because Clarke Griffin had it all. She had the house and the money. She was wealthy, and that was all that mattered, right?_

_Wrong. Always wrong. People thought they knew those types of things about the world, but in reality, money couldn't buy her any amount of happiness. So they didn’t understand. Some of them were jealous, not only of the wealth but where she stood compared to even all the other rich people in the city._

_None of that stopped her, though. She kept going, racing by every person, despite their glares, and hurtful words. She couldn’t stop, she wouldn’t._

_And when she reached the end, she stopped to catch her breath. Finally away from all the others, she stopped everything, stopped thinking, stopped moving. It felt like she even stopped breathing for a moment._

_After a few more seconds went by, Clarke stood up straight. Her mind was full and blank all at the same time. Her father's face, Finn's face. No idea of what to do or how to deal with it. All she knew was that she wanted it over, to be done with. She didn’t want fancy dinners and suited up men. She didn’t want people to gawk over the necklaces that hung with care around her neck._

_If she could, she’d live her own life. With friends that weren’t so judgmental and let her be a free person. A family who wasn’t always forcing her into these things and those dresses. She’d have a man who respected her but wasn’t uptight and all about money._

_That life wasn’t for her. Maybe for the others, but to her, it was pointless. Useless because she was an artist, a talented one at that. But with the money already there, sometimes waved in front of her face, it was impossible to go anywhere with it._

_They told her she couldn’t do it, not because they hadn’t seen her work, everyone had. But she was a woman. And she was a woman with money who, one day, would marry a rich man who would support her and bring her children and support them as well._

_He would make money, a good amount too because, “a young woman like you deserves a handsome, wealthy man”. And this man would be the best thing that had ever happened to Clarke._

_That’s what they all said. Time and time again. Clarkes ears felt like they were bleeding from the annoyance of how much those very things had been repeated to her all her life._

_She was tired of it._

_So tired that she made a scene in front of everyone, telling her father off, even telling Finn off. And it wasn’t like he was a rude man, he was frankly quite nice. He just wasn’t someone she wanted to be a part of her life, and not forced into her life like her father was trying to._

_Now she stood there, eyes glancing up to the railing in front of her. The vast ocean beyond it._

_There wasn’t much thought put into her next actions._

_She stumbled over to them, crawled over the rails with ease and held on. The water below her sloshed against the side of the ship, loud inside of her head. It was dark, and she wasn’t sure what could be down there. But this could be an answer to her problems. A solution. She could end it, it would look like she fell off in a fit of anger._

_No one would know. No one would find her. She would be gone forever without another word. There wouldn’t be a life to be forced onto her because her own life would simply be gone._

_She began to lean forward, hands still gripping the rails. The voices in her head screamed at her to do it, to let go. They screamed at her that there was no other choice. It was this or live the way her father wanted her to. Go back home once this ship docked with that man, have kids, stay in the kitchen._

_She hated it._

_Loosening her grip a little more, a soft voice cut through her thoughts. Interrupting the chaos that came with those voices that were yelling only seconds before._

_“Don’t do it.”_

_Clarke turned her head enough to see who the voice belonged to._

_A man. Not too much taller than her, with tan, baggy pants and a collared flannel jacket. His messy hair blew in the wind, some strands blocking his vision. He had a cigarette in hand. For a second Clarke was caught off guard by him. With his careful eyes and furrowed brows._

_Then the voices came back. And they were telling her to jump._

_“Stay back...don’t come any closer.” She warned, voice shaky and hands going clammy. If she didn’t do it soon, she wouldn’t have a choice regardless._

_“Come on, just give me your hand. I’ll pull you back over.” He was walking towards her, arm outstretched to help. He sounded like an honest man, who cared. The voices were stronger though. They always were._

_“No, stay where you are.” Clarke repositioned her hands, moving them to a colder spot so she had more grip. “I mean it. I’ll let go.”_

_The man stopped, took another puff of his cigarette and gestured to the railing to show he was throwing it over. After tossing it, he strolled right up to the railing, shoving his hands deep inside his pockets. “No, you won’t.”_

_“What do you mean no I want? Don’t presume to tell me what I will and won’t do. You don’t know me.” Clarke replied, taken aback by the bluntness of the man. Never had she met someone like that, nor had she met someone that spoke to her like that. The more she thought about it, maybe that was better._

_Maybe he wasn’t like everyone else._

_“Well...you would’ve done it already,” he countered, not harshly, but matter-of-factly._

_“You’re distracting me, go away.” Clarke shifted her weight carefully, making sure not to slip. She couldn’t do it yet. Not with this man there._

_“I can’t. I’m involved now,” the man paused, eyes lazily focused on the water. Then, in an instant, he was ripping his jacket off, “You let go and I’m going to have to jump in there after you.”_

_He continued to throw it to the ground, and reached for his boots and tugged them off as well. Making it clear that if she were to make any sudden moves, he would be going right in after her. Clarke watched him from the edge, eyes wide. “Don’t be absurd, you’ll be killed.”_

_He continued, not letting up. Not giving in for a second. Because he wasn’t going to let her jump. “I’m a good swimmer,”_

_“The fall alone will kill you,” Clarke said, so sure of herself as she watched the water. Even though this was her idea, the darkness below her was unsettling._

_“It would hurt. I’m not saying it wouldn’t,” he started, yanking off his other boot and dropping it into his pile of clothing. “To tell you the truth, I’m more worried about that water being so cold.”_

_Clarke gulped. She knew that it would be cold, but she didn’t think it was that bad. How could it be worse than the drowning aspect? Or the falling? Maybe all of it was bad. Like it was only worse because all these parts were paired together. She was silent for a second, glancing between him and the water. Her curiosity got the best of her. “How cold?”_

_Pursing his lip, he rocked back onto his heels and replied. “Freezing. Maybe a couple of degrees over.”_

_Clarke’s stomach dropped. The air at that temperature was cold enough, but knowing that water is typically colder, she was sick. This may be a bad idea. Maybe she could live with it? Find a way to deal with that life? “You ever, uh, you ever been to Wisconsin?”_

_Clarke blinked a few times, mouth hung open. She was confused about how this had anything to do with anything. “What?”_

_“Well, they have some of the coldest winters around. I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. I remember when I was a kid, me and my father went ice fishing on Lake Wissota.” Clarke had looked off, causing the man to assume she didn’t know what the activity was. “Ice fishing is where you-”_

_“I know what ice fishing is!” Clarke barked, getting more annoyed by the man's presence._

_“Sorry...you just seem like, you know, kind of an indoor girl. Anyway, I fell through some thin ice, and I’m telling you, water that cold—like right down there—it hits you like a thousand knives. Stabbing you all over your body. You can’t breathe. Can’t think. At least about anything other than the pain. Which is why I’m not looking forward to jumping in there after you. Like I said, I don’t have a choice.” he explained in great detail. His idea was to scare her into coming down, into listening and climbing back over. And she didn’t want to admit it, but she could feel him tugging her back over, without having to physically touch her. He was getting to her._

_He took another layer off, then went on, “I guess I’m hoping you’ll come back over the rail. And get me off the hook here.”_

_He was guilt-tripping her. She knew it. But it was working so well. The pain sounded terrible, and she didn’t want to be the cause of him going over too. She wasn’t that kind of person. So even if in the end, she still wanted to do it, she wasn’t sure if taking that man's life as well was worth it. “You’re crazy.”_

_“That’s what everyone says, but, with all due respect, I’m not the one hanging off the back of the ship here.” His sarcasm was loud and clear, and Clarke wasn’t sure if she hated it, or secretly loved it. “Come on. Give me your hand. You don’t want to do this.”_

_She could see his outstretched hand right next to her, inches away from her arm. She could take it, let him pull her back over and everything would be fine. She would be safe and warm (at least warmer than if she jumped). But then she would have to go back to her father and Finn. She would have to live a life she didn’t want to._

_Then she caught a better glimpse of his face. His eyes were dark and light at the same time, navy blue with splatters of a baby blue. A clean face, with gentle features. He looked amazing._

_She couldn’t do it because if she did, he was coming with her. And seeing his face deemed that option impossible._

_Clarke decided that for now, she would last. She could go on for the next little while and then, just maybe, she can try and escape the life that was force-fed to her. So she slowly lifted her hand from the rail, turning her body to reach for his with ease. It had her holding her breath because now she was scared. Scared of the water and that feeling that he had described._

_Like a thousand little knives. It sounded much worse than just drowning._

_Grabbing his hand, she turned her full body, so she was facing both him and the railing. They stopped for a moment, and he smiled, nodding his head. Then he spoke, officially introducing himself, “I’m John Murphy.”_

_“Clarke Griffin.”_

_“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Griffin. Would have preferred under different circumstances but here we are.” John joked, causing Clarke to laugh._

_They stood there a couple of seconds more, just looking at each other. Her exhausted, drained from the dances, and the tight smiles she put on for others. His, on the other hand, were wide, and bright. Like happiness was written in them. She wanted to get lost in them for hours._

_“Come on,” John began to help Clarke over. Taking her hand as she climbed the rail, the dress that was down to her ankles was caught up around her feet, and suddenly she slipped._

_She screamed, every fear coming crashing down. She was dead. She was going to die? She was so far in shock that it took her some time to process the fact that John had grabbed her. He was hanging over the railing himself. A strong grip on her tiny arm, unwilling to let go._

_“I got you!” John struggled to pull her back up, yelling reassurances over the crashing water. He kept trying. Using all the strength he had in him to pull her. But it was hard. Harder than he thought, and when he had her nearly over the top bar, she slipped again. Almost falling to her death._

_Clarke was yelling louder than she thought possible when John’s voice broke through to her again, “I got you, I’m not letting go, okay? Now pull yourself up!”_

_Using the last bit of force that he could find, Clarke was soon pulled over, and they fell to the ground, breathless from the ordeal. And when John went to lean back up, from where he had fallen across her, three guards stood above, giving him the nastiest look he had ever seen._

_Then he caught their eye, and what they had fallen upon, and now it looked so much worse than it was. It especially didn’t help that Clarke, from the dress and the expensive jewelry he saw, was first class. And he was a penniless man who happened to win tickets onto the ship. They could see that just from looking at him._

_“You stand back, and don’t move!” One of them threatened, yelling louder than Clarke had a moment ago._

_John stood up and shoved his hands far into his pockets while the guard gave more orders to his two men. Calling for a Collins and Griffin, people who he could only assume were Clarke's father and fiancé._

_Then he waited. He waited and waited and waited, time crawling as his arrest sat on the horizon. Because this wasn’t something he was going to get out of. It looked bad. Worse than bad. He too would assume that he was trying to do more than just help her._

_When those two men showed up, calling out to a shivering John, who hadn’t moved from his spot. The older man went to Clarke while the other stormed right up to him, hands shaking and jaw clenched. His face was redder than a rose, with squinted eyes. But more importantly, he looked a little more muscular than John._

_This was going to turn into more than just an arrest._

_“What the hell is wrong with you? Going near a lady like her? And to try and take advantage of her? You disgust me.” The man spat, getting all up in his face. John stayed quiet, afraid that saying anything wouldn’t help. Though it was growing more clear just how bad the situation already was._

_Her father started towards him, eyes low and dark. John shivered, more from the threatening look than the wind. “You young sir, are a menace to society.”_

_John couldn’t describe what he thought or felt in the time from when the man started yelling to when the guards ripped him off to the side, still accusing him of something so vile and cruel. Something he was not capable of. There was no thinking because the entire time it happened, he watched Clarke._

_Only five minutes ago, they were strangers. Two entirely different people with different lives. Somehow their worlds collided, and yet his was ending. Her blonde hair was tucked up into a nice bun, strands falling down the side of her face. A deep red flushed over her cheeks and nose and ears._

_It was insane, but despite what was happening, with the guards pulling him down the deck, he thought about how beautiful she was. He thought about how Mr. Collins was a lucky man._

_They continued walking, his head whipping around to stare forward. His short vacation was coming to an end a lot sooner than he had planned, but he was thankful for being able to have boarded the ship in the first place. And his luck brought him to that bench, where he had been staring into the night sky, up at the stars and wondering how stars existed._

_Then she was there, running, and on the railing. He was begging her to get down. And all in the matter of a few minutes, his life was changed. Again. He shouldn’t be surprised._

_In the time between then and now, he had rolled over every possibility of how this would all turn out. Every single version of it played on a loop, like a film. But never did he think that there was another option. One where he would get out of it. Because that seemed impossible. Until it wasn’t._

_“No, he was helping me. I slipped from the railing, and he pulled me back up.” Clarke suddenly said, shouting to the guards. Not providing the whole story, but enough to make them question what they saw._

_“Miss, you don’t need to lie. Not for a man like hi-”_

_“No,” She was looking at John now, gentle eyes and a soft grin. She was helping him, “I’m not. He helped, I promise.”_

_Both the guards and her father gave questionable looks to John as if to say they weren’t buying it. The other man, Mr. Collins, on the other hand, strode up to him, and with a firm hand on his shoulder nodded. “Is it true?”_

_John bit his lip, going between looking at Clarke and her father, and the man. “It is.”_

_“Let this man go, you can not arrest him under false claims.”_

_“But sir-”_

_“No, you heard the lady. This man was helping her when she nearly died. Drop any sort of charges…” Once he finished giving his orders, to which the guards huffed over, and turned and stomped away, he spoke to John, “You’re welcome to join us up in first class. Dances, food, and more. Think of it as a thank you.”_

_He was in shock. This was not the outcome he thought would happen. Not even close. But what was he supposed to say now? Should he take the offer? Or tell him it wasn’t worth it? That he was just a penniless guy who won his way onto the ship? Would that change how they thought of him? Change their ideas back to how they were a moment ago?_

_Maybe it wouldn’t matter._

_The woman, Clarke was standing there, an eager look on her face, like she was begging him, just with her eyes to take it. To agree._

_So he did. He took the offer and agreed._

_“Alright, that sounds great. Thank you.”_

_*****_

_Clarke hadn’t seen John all day. It was like he had disappeared. Like he fell off. He didn’t show up to breakfast, even after Finn said he was invited to them. It was disappointing. She was interested in him. She wanted to know about who the man who saved her life was._

_Instead, while he was off doing whatever it was that John Murphy does, she was on the deck. Her father and mother there, with Finn and more. They were talking about all kinds of things. Family. Business. Money. Nothing but the usual. And she was bored out of her mind. That was another thing that happened with that life. When it was something you didn’t want, it was boring._

_And the conversations left her tired. So she wandered off. Exploring more of the ship on her own, visiting the places people told her to stay away from, meeting some others and starting up her own conversations. None of her family had noticed, which was both saddening and relieving._

_The day went on slowly, spending her morning doing things she wanted to do. Not what anyone else told her to do._

_Then he was there. Staring out into a dining hall—in first class—and was watching everyone. He had his head tilted, brows furrowed together as he concentrated, and what seemed to be a defining trait, his hands were shoved into his pockets._

_Clarke took a deep breath, and walked up next to him, bumping his side to make him aware she was there, “It’s nice to finally see you around, John. You know you can go in right?”_

_He chuckled, turning to look down to the girl with a devilish little smile, “you can call me Murphy, you know.”_

_“Oh,” Clarke replied, bumping into him again, throwing him a smile, “well, you didn’t tell me that last night?”_

_“You see, I kind of had some bigger things to deal with, so it slipped my mind,” Murphy leaned his back against the doorway, now facing Clarke and continued to joke with her._

_“Hmm, well I hope those things you dealt with went well.”_

_“Oh, they did. Took a bit of time, but you see, there’s this girl, who I think is supposed to be a stuck up snob, but surprisingly, is lovely.” Clarke snorted and pushed him gently, pretending like the comment didn't spark butterflies in her stomach._

_She enjoyed the jokes and being able to connect with someone like him. To not be fake and proper like she had to be with the others. Murphy could joke and take jokes, and it felt nice._

_“Okay and I met a man, and he’s…” Clarke had to stop herself. There was no joke or comeback that she had, or could think of. She only saw one side, one honest and true side to Murphy. He was caring and sweet and seemed like a good guy. That was the only way she saw him. “He’s really sweet. And a good guy that I think the whole world should know. They would be lucky to.”_

_Murphy was left speechless, not sure what to say. All his life this was the exact opposite of how he was treated, especially from those who had much more money than he ever would._

_“I think you’re supposed to say I’m just a filthy man, not needed in this society.” Murphy partially joked, wanting to lighten up the mood because he wasn’t good with emotions. But he was good with sarcasm and making people laugh. But it didn’t go that way, Clarke wasn’t willing to let it slide._

_“Why would I say that?”_

_“Well I’m-” He caught the look on her face, worried and what he could have mistaken for fear. Whatever it truly was. There was a girl. A girl who wondered why anyone could think of such things about an amazing person. Murphy didn’t see himself as such, but in her eyes, staring at her in that hall, he felt like he could believe that he was._

_“I don’t have much, and to everyone else...no one cares.” Murphy wasn’t sure what to say, what not to. She was a lovely girl, and yesterday, when she was looking at him from over the railing, he felt something. A connection that he couldn’t describe. Then she defended him, something not many people did. But even with all that, a little part was holding him back._

_“I care.” Clarke raised her voice just enough to bring them stares. Tables among tables of the richest people Murphy had ever seen, all watching with uneasiness. Like they were waiting for him to try and make a move, to do something to her that they would expect from someone as low as him._

_“You don’t know me.” He was fighting with himself now, trying to plead with her, but still building those walls against her. Not letting her in. Like he was crying inside a cage that he looked himself in. This wasn’t her. This was all him._

_“But I do,” Clarke argued, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from turning, “You’re John Murphy. A man with a kind heart, who cares about others.”_

_“Everyone has more than what you see on the outside, Clarke.”_

_Clarke stopped, and let out a sigh. She couldn’t tell where this came from all of sudden. She wanted to know everything about him, she wanted to get to know him, regardless if people saw it as absurd due to the class difference. That didn’t matter in her mind. “Then show me, tell me. I want to know!”_

_“I don’t think sharing my life story is going to change anything about me. About what all your friends think of me. And why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with your husband? Not here with me.”_

_“He’s not my...Murphy.”_

_He was walking off before Clarke was able to think, to explain to him that Finn wasn’t her husband. That she didn’t care about Finn but noticed the deep connection she had with Murphy. One she wanted to strengthen. He saved her the night before, and she could not thank him enough for it. Even though, on the surface, she still had to be seen as the Clarke Griffin, daughter of Jake Griffin._

_She was still thankful, simply for the fact that it had brought them together, their paths crossed. And she wanted them to stay on the same one for a while,_

_*****_

_Later that night, when a large dinner was held in honour of Clarke’s father, she stayed at her table the whole time. The events of the night before, and that very day, replaying in her head. From hearing Murphy’s gentle voice to seeing the calmness in his eyes. And the feeling of his hand in hers, sitting so perfectly together._

_Then him getting flustered that morning, joking with her and then immediately changing. Like something went off in his head._

_And during that time, when she sat at her table, fiddling with her dress, she had multiple people come up to her. Telling her how thankful they were that she was safe. That she had been alive. Others also had more to add, not just about the ‘boy’ who saved her, but Finn being so kind to have let him off. To give him an invitation to join them, for the lunches and the events. Though he hadn’t shown up to any of them._

_The night was long. Dances going by, with Finn constantly trying to invite Clarke up to the floor, to which she would politely decline. He would nod and head off, only to come back yet again._

_Wine and food, people thrusting unnecessary questions her way. Her father, her mother, Finn. It was overwhelming. Clarke wanted to run out, to escape, but she told her father she would be there. Especially after leaving them in the morning, she couldn’t break that promise. So she sat in boredom, wishing to be anywhere else._

_Another round of dancing started, with a slow song playing through the hall. Clarke was preparing herself for Finn, who would walk over in approximately 30 seconds to try just one last time in asking her to go up with him. And she would say no again, for the fifth time that night._

_Then he was there. Murphy had walked through the entrance, a nervous smile and clean hair. Dressed up so ‘proper’ that Clarke could not believe her eyes. She would have loved to see him in anything, just glad to not be alone and have someone who she enjoyed being around there. But this was better than she thought._

_He looked stunning._

_He picked Clarke out of the crowd and strode towards her, ignoring the stares. Though these were not the same stares that he had experienced earlier. This time, they were looking in awe and admiration. Wanting to know who this young man was. They would never know. Not like Clarke knew, or was going to know._

_When he reached Clarke, he didn’t bother sitting or saying anything right away. He just stretched a handout, offering her to get up with him._

_Still in shock, Clarke let out a shaky breath and stood, hooking her arm around his. “I’m glad you decided to come.”_

_Murphy led her out to the floor where he put his hands on her waist at a respectful height, still well aware that her family was here and watching. “Me too.”_

_With her arms around his neck, Clarke's lips curled high into her cheeks, nose wrinkling up. Something about it all felt right like the night wasn’t complete without seeing him just once more. Only now it was so much better than she had imagined._

_“Everyone is watching us.” Murphy pointed out, conscious of the burning stare going through his back like knives. Unlike the threatening feeling he felt, Clarke didn’t drop her smile._

_“I don’t care.”_ _  
__It took Murphy a minute to understand, considering who he was. Though she seemed confident enough. “Okay...as long as you’re happy.”_

_“I am.”_

_“That’s good.” Clarke hummed and placed her head against his chest. She never believed in love at first sight. She thought it was impossible, that it was strictly about attraction. But it was different with the two of them. Because for them, it wasn’t just seeing each other. It was hearing each other. Feeling so utterly important to one another without actually knowing. It was saving each other._

_If she were being completely honest, this was the happiest she had been in a long time. He seemed to understand her in a way others didn’t. Even if it hadn’t been long, there was something there. And she was pretty sure Murphy saw it too._

_She became sure of it when he broke the silence, “I apologize about earlier. I'm just not used to...that. To someone who cares and is interested in knowing those things about me.”_

_Clarke lifted her head, smiling up at him. The music continued to play around them, other couples dancing together. “Well, I'm glad you came around. I was a little worried.”_

_He sighed, and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in her perfume. It smelled of fresh flowers and mossy forests. The chilly spring days where you needed an extra layer. The days where you walked along paths, watching the animals and the rivers water flow by. The birds chirping as you fed the chipmunks. It reminded him of home. A sense of safety._

_He enjoyed the scent and decided it was hers, and it would be the one thing that reminded him of her._

_And as a final decision, he opened up. “My parents died. My father, then my mother. We didn't have much then, and I have even less now. This morning I got defensive and that is wholeheartedly my fault, and I am so dearly sorry. And I hope that you will forgive me.”_

_Clarke didn’t move. She continued to let him lean against her, the brown strands that fell from his gelled back hair tickling her face. She was glad he could open up, she just had not expected that._

_And as she fought to find a response, one that would be proper, and something to say to someone like Murphy, she realized that this was not the same. This wasn’t a stranger who she didn’t know, of first_ or _third class. This was someone that would understand. And who she was beginning to understand more about._

_She pulled his neck closer, tucking it into her shoulder, and whispered, “You are the strongest person I have met in a very long time. And I’m grateful, and happy that you’re here, despite all of that.”_

_He lifted his head, lips shaking as he tried his hardest to smile. The more he did, the harder it was to contain his tears all at the same time. So he dropped the act and let her in, tears falling down his cheeks without a sound. Silently crying while they rocked from foot to foot._

_“Thank you.”_

_After that, the two of them just swayed back and forth, nothing much to say. Both just wanting to be in the other's presence._

_Then Clarke got thinking again. That morning, in Murphy’s eyes, Clarke was a married woman. Taken. Now he was with her like none of that happened._

_She started lighthearted, so she could ease them back into a comfortable conversation and not push him too far. “Hey, I think you look good in a suit.”_

_Murphy laughed, “Thanks. I wasn’t really sure about it. If you couldn’t tell, I don’t get dressed up often.”_

_Clarke chuckled, looked over to her father who was watching cautiously and turned back. She wasn’t going to let her father or anyone else ruin this for her. This was going to be her night._

_“You know, the suit aside, I am honestly a bit shocked. Just this morning you thought Finn was my husband. Now here you are, dancing with me.” Clarke tried to be sarcastic, smirking at Murphy. But she failed quickly, as she had broken out into such a pure grin. Her cheeks so high they reached her vibrant eyes. Mouth twisted off to the side as she still attempted to hold it in, though that was impossible._

_“I may have overheard him speaking to your father. It was then that I realized I still had a chance,” Murphy said._

_Clarke sighed. Not out of anything other than the pure happiness she felt inside. It was like she was buzzing. Like now everything was starting to fall into place and make sense. This made sense. John Murphy made sense._

_This was what she had been longing for. For that feeling and connection with someone. Someone who didn’t make her feel crazy, or like she had to live a certain life. Murphy made her feel accepted. He made her feel safe._

_But most importantly, he made her feel loved._

_“Come with me, I have something to show you.”_

_*****_

_Clarke had led him down to the sitting room, where there were paintings and bouquets. The seats with cushions placed delicately on them. Murphy had opened up to her, sharing very personal things. Now Clarke wanted to._

_So she brought him there, knowing they wouldn’t be disturbed as long as everyone was still drinking and the party going. But most of all, her father wasn’t going to be coming any time soon as he had to stay. Clarke was safe to have time to just the two of them._

_“Wow, what is this?” Murphy wondered as they walked through. He was in awe, examining every detail of the room and everything it had to offer._

_He then stopped in front of one of the canvases, finger tracing over the brush marks left behind. “This is beautiful.”_

_Clarke went to one of the conjoining rooms to grab some supplies. She listened to Murphy as he whispered to himself, eyes glancing from one painting to the next. He was amazed._

_“Aren’t they just wonderful? One of my favourite artists is Michelangelo. His style is captivating...and the way he details the body. I have always been fascinated with his work.” Clarke said, coming up behind Murphy. She bit her lip, nervous to ask him. She hadn’t painted many people before. Especially in terms of what she wanted to do, so she wasn’t sure if it was worth it. And if it was bad, she couldn’t show him that._

_Clarke couldn’t shake her thoughts, but instead of dwelling on them, she went for it. “Would you mind modelling for a painting? I want to show you something that means a lot to me, though I think it would be more special if you were the person I was painting.”_

_He didn’t say anything at first, which made Clarke’s stomach turn and her breath quickened. Had she blown it just by asking to paint? Had it been too_ _personal? Did he hate her now because of it? She was overthinking. She must be. There was no way that someone could hate her just for sharing something about herself, right?_

_But the others did. They always had. They spoke down to Clarke because she wanted to draw and paint. She wanted to do something other than stay in a kitchen and cook for a family she hardly cared to have. Or at best, she wanted someone to acknowledge her and her work. She wanted them to look in awe like Murphy had when he saw the others. She wanted people to see hers and have the same reaction, and she didn’t want them to change how they thought of it when finding out that she, a woman, had created it._

_She was talented and good at painting and she knew that she did. But now Murphy was standing there, time crawling by while Clarke clawed at the insides of her brain because no matter what, no matter how many times she told herself she was good, she still felt like a failure._

_Then Murphy finally responded. “I’d love that.”_

_Shakily exhaling, Clarke nodded and pulled a long couch from the side into the middle of the room, Murphy watching her as she did. Then when sitting down opposite of each other, Clarke realized she forgot one crucial bit of information about how she wanted to paint. “Michelangelo’s paintings are usually...they, uh, they tend to have far less clothing.”_

_Murphy tilted his head and smirked, “already trying to get me out of my clothes?”_

_“No, it’s not like that. I prom-”_

_He interrupted her rambling, already peeling his jacket off, “Don’t worry, I know.”_

_Then he proceeded to take the rest of his clothes off, piece by piece while Clarke counted her materials. She wanted to make sure she had everything._

_Murphy cleared his throat, causing Clarke to look back up. She held her breath, stuttering as she directed Murphy how to sit. Leg across the seat with his arm reached over, just like one of the famous paintings. Though the whole thing wasn’t complete without Murphy making a few comments. “Eyes up here, Griffin.”_

_Clarke’s eyes widened, and she immediately turned away, too embarrassed to face him. Even if she knew she wasn’t looking, and he was joking. She was afraid that he’d see how red her cheeks got._

_With everything in place, Clarke began. The two of them talked throughout it, Clarke needing to remind Murphy that if he moved it would mess up her work. And of course, several comments from Murphy, telling her to watch where she was looking. Each time he did they laughed more and more, not being able to take it seriously after so long, and because Clarke had no choice but to look._

_When two hours had passed, and the paint was running out, Clarke finished. It was better than she expected for her first proper painting of someone. Someone who wasn’t off of a magazine or was copied from another painting. And she was proud of it and thought of it as her favourite piece. Though she was sure that Murphy had a big role in it being her favourite._

_“Let me see.” An overexcited Murphy jumped from the couch, running over to try and get a look but Clarke stopped him, hand over his chest, the warmth of it bleeding into her skin._

_“At least cover-up.”_

_Rolling his eyes, Murphy retrieved his underwear from the floor and pulled them on. Then leaning over her shoulder again, he saw it._

_At first, he felt weird looking at himself, naked and painted onto a canvas for anyone to see. But the longer he stared, the more detail popped out, and the way the brushstrokes crossed the page. Clarke was amazing. She was more amazing. She was talented and Murphy thought that the world deserved to see her work._

_“Why haven’t you shown anyone else this? Or other works of course. This is beautiful, way better than those.” Murphy pointed to the artwork behind him, which was quite impressive. He couldn’t lie about that. But Clarke’s brought him a feeling of warmth, and maybe, in a weird sense, joy? Even if he was staring at nothing other than his lower area that was naked._

_Clarke lowered the painting, “That’s not true...and I have. But I’m not a man. I can’t do art, I wasn’t meant for it. No matter how badly I want to pursue it, I’m reminded that it's not my place.”_

_“Wasn’t meant for it? Clarke,” Murphy tore it from her hands, holding it up to the light, “you have a gift. Your work...people will go on for years about this.”_

_“I can’t. I just do it for fun, that’s all it is.” Clarke took it back, shoved it off to the side and began piling the brushes and paints together._

_Murphy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He truly thought that Clarke could make it in that field. And he knew it would be hard because as she said, she was a woman. And being a woman in a man's world must be hard. Harder than he could imagine, even with the money._

_He knew there was nothing he could formally do, not then, and probably not ever. But he decided that he would do everything he possibly could to get her work seen because she deserved that._

_“Fine, but one day, one day we’ll be able to see your art up on a wall. For all to see.”_

_“We?” Clarke took extra notice of his wording and felt the immediate effects of it. She was already falling for him, and for him to imply that there would be a future where they were still in each other's lives made her heart pound a little harder._

_Murphy had already started to get dressed, “Yeah, the two of us.”_

_The two then finished tidying up the space, both with an equally wide grin and giddy feeling flooding through them. They wanted the same thing. And that was each other._

_*****_

_When the sun rose high against the sky, and breakfast came and went, Clarke was already thinking of all the things she and Murphy could do. She wanted nothing more than to spend every second with him, and she didn’t care for the looks her father had been giving her since. Or the pep talks he would drag her aside to have. It didn’t matter to her, not anymore._

_Ever since she met Murphy, she realized all those things about having a family and a husband wasn’t true. Sure, she didn’t want to be stuck in a place that they all expected her to be. But the actual idea of having those things, such as kids and a husband, didn’t completely sicken her._

_It was the idea of everything a man wanted and thought she should do that made her feel uneasy. Murphy, on the other hand, had made her feel respected from the start. So now she could see herself in a house, making lunches for a much smaller version of herself. And hearing someone's voice in the morning as she woke up and rolled over, to see him lying there right next to her._

_Clarke could see all of that with him, and it brought her so much joy to think of that as her potential future._

_And after breakfast, Clarke went out in search of him, finding him on the deck, leaning over the railing. The wind whipped through his hair and pushed his jacket behind him. He was just standing there, but that alone sparked something inside of Clarke._

_“Are you going to just stare, or come and join me?” Murphy caught Clarke off guard. She didn’t know how long she had been admiring him without a word._

_Clarke cleared her throat, walked up to the railing and mimicked his stance. Arms folded against the white bar back pushed out slightly, and one foot in front of the other._

_“So, what are you up to today?”_

_Murphy looked up to the clouds and rolled out his top lip, “I was thinking about going hiking, maybe along a river. Then maybe head to that lovely restaurant down the street, you know the one on the second deck? Maybe I’ll go alone, maybe I’ll bring my horse. Just your usual Friday.”_

_Clarke shook her head and scrunched up her nose, “You can joke all you want...but that restaurant is terrible. The food? Horrific. I’d say you should ask one of the Griffins the directions to a better one. More specifically the woman, she might be interested.”_

_“Oh, is that so?” Murphy replied, eyebrows raised. He backed off from the railing._

_“Mhm.”_

_Murphy was now a foot away from Clarke, fingers hooked around the loops of his pants, determination and amusement marking his face. He stared with wide eyes and a toothy grin, “Then I must find her, have you seen where she has wandered off too?”_

_Clarke let her back hit the rails, hands gripping them as tightly as they had the other night. But instead of fear and adrenaline taking hold of her, she had been biting at her bottom lip, trying not to smile. And this time they were laughing, and rolling their eyes at each other. This was much different than before, Clarke thought. Then she replied, “Everyone knows she spends all her time in the ballroom, or on the deck with this wonderful man.”_

_“I missed my chance? No, I couldn’t have. You tell me who this handsome, very handsome, man is.” Murphy rocked back and forth on his feet, his hand above his eyes as if he was actually looking for someone._

_Clarke laughed, watching him do circles around her, looking like a lost puppy._

_“Okay, okay, stop that, Murphy.” Clarke pushed his shoulder when he came back around the front. He stumbled back a bit and when he wasn’t moving, softened his eyes and pouted. Like he was hurt by what she did._

_“Oh don’t give me that look.” Clarke rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. Murphy leaned in closer, still pouting for a little longer until Clarke pushed him back by his chest._

_“Fine, if you wish for me to stop, I shall.”_

_Clarke watched him flip his jacket back, attempting to act proper. “Now, what was the point of this conversation again?”_

_“Honestly,” Murphy pondered, “I have absolutely no idea.”_

_They both laughed and carried on with the rest of their day. For a while they did rounds on the deck, bumping shoulders while they shared more about their life. Clarke telling him about her childhood and growing up in a large home. How it felt lonely some days because her father was always working, and her mother was always off doing something else. That was when Clarke got into painting._

_She told him about the artists she studied at that time. Between school and chores, she would read books and look through plenty of artworks. They were an inspiration to her._

_And Murphy told her about the farm he grew up on. All of the animals he cared for when he was only a child, rolling around in the mud and staying out late._

_In that conversation, Clarke found herself enjoying what sounded like a peaceful life. Murphy assured her it was not peaceful. The animals were loud and some nights, they would keep him and his parents up._

_Though he also said that it was nice. Even with sleepless nights. And he promised Clarke that he would bring her to a farm one day, and maybe even buy one. She liked that idea a lot. With kids running around, horses and sheep to tend to. Then coming back inside to get cooled down._

_Later on, they went to dinner and talked some more. They danced and sang and acted like children. With Murphy’s arm hooked around hers as they skipped along, laughs belting out into the long hall. They didn’t care for the glares they were given, or the words thrown around from the stuck up rich friends of Clarke’s father._

_Not too long after they ate and calmed down from dancing, they found themselves on a lower level, away from curious eyes and loud voices. Just the two of them, bodies tangled up next to each other as they stood against one wall. Clarke with her hand digging into his hair, and his holding onto her hips._

_“I like spending time with you,” Murphy admitted, lowering his face closer to hers._

_Clarke sucked in a sharp breath, well aware of how close they now were, and how that made her feel. “Me too.”_

_Murphy didn’t take his eyes off her nor his hands. He just stared with wild eyes and no smile. It was like he was thinking, but couldn’t form his thoughts into actual words. Clarke noticed this easily because that’s how she felt. Her head was swimming with things she wanted to say, with the way she felt. Putting those feelings into words was hard. And both of them had been trying for days to say anything. To describe it all._

_She made him feel at home. Warm and happy. Those days back on his farm, when he would lay in the fields and watch the clouds. The grass underneath tickling the back of his neck. Jack, his dog, running and jumping through the tall grass, barking as loud as possible. Clarke brought that back. She reminded him of what life used to be and still can be. She gave him that sense of peace._

_And Murphy? Well, Murphy made her feel like she was capable of anything. Those days when she sat in her backyard, watching the flowers sway in the breeze, while her parents were off doing whatever it was they did, and the cleaners were the only ones to keep her company. But don’t think of those days as lonely. It was the happiest Clarke had been. With her sketchbook spread across the table, pencils rolling away and the shade from the tree. Honey. The smell of honey seemed to appear quite often._

_That’s what Murphy made her feel. He reminded her of the times she believed in herself and her art, and she was at the happiest point of her life._

_They both grounded each other and brought each other up. But neither knew how to say it. Not in any other way than what Murphy decided to do._

_With knowing that no one was around, Murphy leaned into Clarke, pressing his lips to hers._

_Before then he never thought that he would experience what it was like to have time slow down. Time slowing down was one of those things they showed in movies, to make a moment more special. It was never real. But as they stood there, arms around each other, and kissing, Murphy finally knew. It was something that could happen, and he didn’t want it to end._

_Tastes of cigarettes and strawberry lip gloss clashed together, still lingering on each other long after they pulled away._

_“I want you...only you.” Clarke breathed out. Murphy ran a hand up her arm, leaving goosebumps. He left a trail of kisses up her neck, dotting them on her jaw, and the little mole above her lip._

_Clarke walked Murphy back into what was an old car, her fingers raking through his hair. His hands finding the curve of her back, pulling her in tightly. She moaned into his mouth, then Murphy pulled away and looked to the car. “Come on.”_

_It didn’t take long for each of them to hop in and begin to strip away their clothes, mouth hardly leaving each other in the process._

_After that, most of the night was a blur. Clarke was on cloud nine and couldn’t have imagined a better night. She hoped that they could have many more, and spend the rest of their lives with each other. She knew Murphy wanted it too, he didn’t have to say it, his actions did. The hours spent together, breathing heavily, whispering to each other. Cuddling after. That was it. That was all Clarke wanted, all she could think of._

_Once she was off the boat, she wasn’t going with her father. Listening to her mother or the others was not an option. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to marry Finn, because everything she needed was underneath her, sleeping away as she listened to the slow pace of his beating heart._

_Nothing could get better than that._

_*****_

_Too much had happened. Too much in a short amount of time for Clarke to even begin to comprehend what was going on. It started with the news that Murphy had been arrested. For what charges? Her father had staged a robbery. He was the only one who would come up with such an idea, and he was the only one to go to those lengths to stop Clarke from being with Murphy._

_Finn and her mother and other of the first-class passengers had been in her face since it happened, asking her questions. Telling her they knew he was like that from the beginning. Saying that it was her fault for trusting someone like_ him. _None of them would leave her alone. They made it their duty to remind Clarke that Murphy was a third class-dump that didn’t know anything other than being a criminal._

_Every single one of them was wrong. Beyond wrong. She even told some of them that, rambling on about how caring he was. But no matter how hard she tried to explain, they looked at her like she was crazy. Like she belonged in a mental hospital. They were so far from right, and Clarke was going to prove it._

_She wasn’t sure how she was going to, but she was. Even if it took everything out of her. They were not arresting him for something her father lied about._

_And of course, while she was planning how to get him out, it happened. The entire ship shook, sending Clarke and others around her into tables, walls. Clarke had managed to hold onto the frame of the door. At first, she had no idea what was happening, neither did anyone else in the room._

_She had looked back at the others in the dining hall, all sharing the same confusion. Clarke tried to provide a logical explanation for what that was. Murphy would have said he had too much to drink, she was sure of it._

_Giving that idea some thought, it could be a plausible one. Everyone was allowed to drink._

_But when the boat shook harder the second time, Clarke’s fears became increasingly overwhelming. This wasn’t just a captain who had a little too much to drink. And really, someone would have taken over. Or gotten help. Or something. Clarke hoped that the people they were depending on to keep them and hundreds of other people safe, were doing just that._

_Clarke took a step away from the door, hoping she could get somewhere before it happened again before she was thrown to the ground. She needed to get to Murphy. “Ms. Griffin, you best hang on to something. I am not sure what is going on, but it can’t be good.”_

_Clarke nodded and smiled tightly, hoping it came off as genuine._

_Taking another step, Clarke was sure that she could hear water sloshing around below her. Like it had seeped into the boat. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. They were fine, they were going to be fine. This was nothing._

_Clarke didn’t know much about boats. Or especially the biggest one of them all. What she did know was that the sounds of screeches that started from the main deck, and people charging down the grand staircase, was as much of an indication of what was happening._

_They were sinking._

_Murphy was still chained up somewhere on the lower level. He was going to die unless she did something, and fast._

_Clarke tore her hands from the wooden frame and sprinted down an endless amount of halls. Tearing by people heading in the opposite direction. Heading for safety. The cries and screams were becoming louder. Children begging their parents for an answer, to know what was happening. Parents worried and too scared to face the music. They were going down, they were dying. They were going to die._

_The guards were far from Murphy, she had even seen some run by her, so she was sure that getting him out wasn’t a problem._

_Yet it still felt like it. It still felt like it was because of the looming fate of both of them. She was well aware that, in the worst-case scenario, she didn’t make it and she would die, and so would he. Or that she would get there and he would be gone. Never to be seen again. Or when she reached him, they wouldn’t make it back up in time to survive, so instead, they would die down there together. In each other's arms as they let their bodies be taken over by hyperthermia._

_Somehow, that was the best of the worst._

_All of these ran through her head as she moved forward, losing breath with each step she took. Each staircase she ran down. Every family and every couple she ran by. She needed to get to him. She had to._

_Nothing else was on her mind but saving him, getting him out so he didn’t die._

_He promised her a farm. He said, the night before while they were lying next to each other, tangled limbs and hot breath, that they would have a life together. Kids, getting married. She wanted that now. She wanted that with him, and no one else but him._

_Murphy dying was not a part of the plan, and she wasn’t going to let that plan fall through. If she did, she wasn’t sure she would make it. Even after surviving the other day, she had fallen quickly. Maybe too quickly._

_Giving up was not going to happen. Clarke kept going, floor by floor, calling out for Murphy. Hoping she would get a response. Eventually, the doors began to look all the same, non-numbered metal doors, and a ringing in her ears and the thudding of feet still went on above her. The ground was a swamp, already halfway to her knees, which made it tremendously more difficult to walk in. “Murphy...Murphy!”_

_“Clarke!” She heard his voice loud and clear from the opposite end of the hall. It was him. They still had time to get out._

_“Murphy!” Clarke called out once again, following his voice. She attempted to run but it was no use, there was too much water. She, at best, could only take one step and then another. Each time they called out to each other, Clarke was reminded of the fact that she had to be quick._

_Clarke pushed open a door to see Murphy hand-cuffed to a pipe. She sighed of relief and stumbled over to him, repeatedly apologizing. It was her father that brought him into that situation on a technicality but had she not been spending so much time with Murphy, maybe it wouldn’t have happened._

_Then she kissed him. Not long. No, there was no time to truly kiss him how she wanted to. She quickly planted one to his lips, immediately explaining herself after, “It was my father, he put it there-”_

_“I know, I know,” Murphy interrupted urgency in his voice, “you need to find a spare key. Try that cabinet.” Clarke nodded and turned around, searching through it. “It should be a silver key.”_

_She couldn’t breathe. She eyed each row over and over in a span of a few seconds. There was no silver key. “They’re all brass.” She exclaimed, the panic starting to settle in._

_“Okay, check over here.” Murphy kicked his foot out to the desk on his left. She nodded and started searching there too. Her chest heaving up and down at a rate she thought to be impossible. The entirety of the situation had her palms sweaty, face flushed a bright red. Clarke rubbed at the back of her neck, trying to cool the warmth travelling up her spine._

_“Clarke,” Murphy called to her, with a calmness to his voice that should not have been there, given the circumstances, “how did you know it wasn’t me?”_

_Clarke whipped back around, staring at him wide-eyed. No one had properly told her. Really, there was no way of knowing that her father did do it. Going off the basis of actual evidence, of course. But she didn’t need it, because she knew Murphy. Even if it had only been a few days, Clarke had gotten to know him enough to realize he never would do anything of the sort._

_“I didn’t. I just knew that...I knew you wouldn’t do that.”_

_Murphy smiled, a new form of happiness washing over him. Then the boat rocked again. “Keep looking!”_

_Clarke had trashed the desk. Checked every spot there was possible, and nothing came up. “There’s no key!”_

_“Okay listen, you need to go find some help,” Murphy said, noticing how Clarke was beginning to zone off, the shock pulling her in, “it’ll be alright, okay?”_

_Stealing a glance between him and the door, she made a decision. Clarke gave him another quick kiss and set off to look for help._

_Rushing out of the door and down the hall, she was met with two dead ends, a staircase, and the rising water that was now at her knees. She moved swiftly up the steps, calling for help. Yelling as loud as she could. Rounding corners, being met with more dead ends and silence._

_Then a man came running out in a hurry. “Hey! I need help, please,” she begged, but it was no use. The man went by her without a word._

_She felt hopeless. Every ounce of what hope she did have left after finding Murphy deflated in an instance. Dying had never been something she was fond of, though who was? It terrified her, and to die drowning in water that pained your skin like a thousand knives, just as Murphy had described the other night. He had told her that the temperature of it was more worrying than the drowning part. Maybe, just maybe it would be fine. As long as he was holding her, as best as he could, then it could be fine. It could be._

_Clarke turned around slowly, staring down the empty hall, waiting for some answer to come flying at her. Instead, the lights cut out, leaving her in the dark. And a loud noise echoed through the walls, her breathing hitching at that alone. They came back on not too long after and another man came flying around the corner. This time though, he dragged her along, talking over her and not letting her speak._

_He went on about everything being okay, and that they had to get out. She knew all that. She did but she wasn’t leaving without Murphy._

_Clarke got fed up with him and so she yelled and pushed him off her. But she underestimated her force and he bashed his head against the wall. Looking up in disbelief, he shook his head, “to hell with you.”_

_Then he was gone. Just like the first man. Like everyone else. Her energy was wearing low, and soon, she thought, she would succumb to this feeling of exhaustion and let the flowing waters take her life because fighting didn’t seem worth it anymore. None of it seemed to be worth it._

_But Murphy’s face flashed through her head, and she remembered the way he smiled at her when he assumed she wasn’t paying attention. She thought about how he was the only one to support her in what she loved, and overall, he was her happiness. Her rock._

_And it was there. Her solution, staring right back at her as she had zoned out. She rushed over to the hose on the wall and broke the glass to the container holding an axe and ran back. This was their way out. He was going to survive. They both were._

_Clarke came to a halt on the stairs. The water had risen more than she expected. She could no longer stand in it, nor wade through it. The pipes along the ceiling were more prominent and she knew what she had to do. With the axe in one hand, she moved along the hall. Hand jumping from what part of the pipe to the next, like monkey bars._

_“Murphy, will this work?” She asked when making it to the room. Murphy went wide-eyed when he saw the axe, “guess we’ll find out.”_

_Before Clarke could position herself to take a swing, Murphy told her to take a practice shot on the dresser. She took one shot, then took another, trying to hit the same spot as Murphy said. Her aim was way off, but there wasn’t any time left. “That’s enough practice, come here.”_

_Clarke pulled her arm back while Murphy pulled his hands away from each other, to give her enough space. “Hit as hard and as fast as possible, alright? I trust you...and separate your hands a little. Yeah, like that,” Murphy instructed._

_The two of them both took an equally terrifying breath and then Clarke swung. Both of them looked. Murphy was free. “Whoo!”_

_He jumped down from what he was squatting on, brought Clarke in for a hug and kissed her temple. “Now come on, we have to get out of here.”_

_They hurried out of the hall and struggled to swim through the cold water, but made it. Climbing every staircase, running down every hall. The pounding of feet above them came back and it was deafening, almost like the sound was bouncing off the walls, coming back and hitting them right in the face. And the cries. The screams. Children’s voices._

_When they had finally reached the top deck, there were children and mothers, and siblings. They clung to their parent’s arms. Babies cried louder than ever, while their fathers attempted to calm them down. People scrambling into lifeboats. Husbands kissing their wives one last time._

_Murphy froze. The sink was sinking, he was a third-class passenger, and was male. He was going to die. Which, that fact alone didn’t scare him (okay it did a little). But it was knowing that Clarke was going to have to get on that boat without him. He would watch her sail away, with all the others and he would be a hundred feet under the surface._

_He wanted her to live, but he was scared. Because once she was on one, and heading off into the mist of the night, he wouldn’t be able to control what happened after. He would have to hope she lived._

_“Murphy,” Clarke tugged at his sleeve, but he was too consumed by his own fear, both of drowning, and watching a loved one dying. She continued to pull, yelling over the crowd’s voices, pleading with him to come back down. To come to his senses._

_“Look at me,” Clarke placed her hands on his cheeks, making him look directly at her, “we’ll be fine, I promise.”_

_Murphy shook his head, not with understanding, but with his own thoughts. “Yeah, you will be.”_

_Clarke caught what he said and tried to protest, but it was no use because Murphy was already pulling her over to the boats, cutting in front of everyone. Ignoring the glares and yelling, or the pain that shot through his back when something sharp was shoved against him. “You’re getting on this boat. You’re going to be fine.”_

_“Murphy-”_

_He ignored her, turning to one of the guards, “Make sure she makes it out, please.”_

_It had been the guard to threaten him the other night. The one who was going to arrest him for something he hadn’t done. This interaction was much different. He had nodded, and guided Clarke in, ignoring her calls and cusses to let her go. She yelled to Murphy._

_He couldn’t be doing this. He had to come with her. This was not the plan. They were going to survive, get out alive together, or die trying. She wasn’t going to live without him. That thought alone was terrifying. Murphy had become her whole life so quickly, and now he was walking away? Leaving her?_

_She knew it was to save her, and frankly, she would do the same. But that’s just it. No matter how it went, one of them would be saving each other. And Clarke couldn’t blame Murphy for something she would do too._

_So Clarke sank down into her spot, brought her knees up to her chest and cried. She cried harder than she had in a long time, tears falling against her cheeks as the boat was being lowered, Murphy standing at the top. He smiled a weak, heart-shattering smile that only made the tears much worse._

_Her chest tightening, causing her to have breathing problems. Some of the other women there tried to comfort Clarke, even through their own tears. It made her feel terrible, but she took it anyway and leaned into an older woman's shoulder, another sob wracking her body._

_She looked up once more, eyes red and puffy, lip quivering and her whole body shaking. Murphy was leaning over the edge. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His face was scrunched up, his eyes no longer holding the soft tenderness in them. He was crying too. He was shivering from the cold, but also from his own sobs that made him feel like he was going to collapse._

_Then he disappeared. His face stamped into her brain, but no longer at the railing. Clarke took in a shaky breath and whispered into the chilly night air. “I love you, John Murphy.”_

_*****_

Clarke never liked when they all came at once. When the events played out how they happened. When she thought back to the broken smile on his lips, and false hope in his eyes. Clarke wasn’t sure how she had made it so long without him. How she managed to raise their daughter on her own while still dealing with the loss of him.

It felt impossible some days. Some days she wished she jumped out, letting herself drown, just so she could be with him. But then Madi would walk into the room, or she would hear her toys going off, and those thoughts would go away. Madi had become her whole world, just as her dad had been so many years ago. There was no way that she would leave, especially not now. Madi was already one parent down, and Clarke wasn’t going to let her be an orphan.

She just wished she had help some days. Because though her mother died that day, and she grieved for her in those years too, her father survived. He survived but didn’t want to be a part of her life after finding out about Madi. 

So it was just her and Madi. The two of them on their own, against the world. 

Clarke pulled the pillow away from her chest and examined it. The thing was soaked from her tears. Sighing, she placed it down backwards, and trudged to the kitchen, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She hoped that was all the memories for today. That she was good until the morning. Because it was exhausting. When they came back so fast, so harshly, it took all the energy out of her. And it seemed like it had been happening more frequently. 

She knew it was because the anniversary was coming up though, that was why the flashbacks were so vivid, and the feelings that came with it were stronger. In a few days it would be five years, and nine months from then it would be Madi’s sixth birthday. Another birthday without her dad. Without any of her grandparents. 

Clarke wanted to give her everything she could, but the reality of it, even with the money she did have, nothing would come close to what could have been if Murphy was there. And Madi questioned it a lot, curious of who he was, wanting to know of the man who helped create her. 

Clarke would tell her how brave he was, how strong. She would tell him how he saved her mom. Twice. He was a hero, Madi would say. And Clarke would agree because he was. 

Murphy saved her from more than just death. He saved her from a life she didn’t want. And he gave her a child that she loved, the last piece of himself. With her long brown hair, and kind, vibrant eyes. Clarke liked to think that was why Madi was here. A gift. One she appreciated every single day.

Clarke let out a sigh as she leaned against the counter. Her head was throbbing, her chest tight. This always came with the tears, with the memories. She was just so tired. 

“Mommy?” Clarke cursed under her breath. She hadn’t meant to wake Madi, especially with knowing that her face was still red. She didn’t turn, but answered, “yeah sweetheart?”

Madi ran over, sneaking into the space between Clarke and the counter. A puzzled look came over her tiny features when she saw Clarke’s face, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, okay?” Clarke picked her up and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, “Now what is it?”

She looked off for a second, to remember what it was she needed to say. “Oh right! There’s mail at the front door.”

Clarke glanced down the hall, before setting her daughter down. It wasn’t that time of the day yet. Clarke walked towards what she saw on the ground. It was an older looking paper, water-stained and colours staining through the back. She picked it up cautiously and turned it over.

She froze. It was the painting from that night. The thin canvas paper, half gone and torn to shreds. But his face, Murphy’s face was still clearly there. It was him. Clarke sucked in a breath, unable to think. “Mama?”

She couldn’t answer her daughter, not without getting her own answers. 

Her hands had started to tremble. Clarke had left it in the sitting room that night when they left in a hurry. When she went back to retrieve it, it had been gone. But now it was there, in her hands. She peered through their living room window, shock flooding her body, the tears reappearing. 

She blinked them away, trying to blink away the man standing in front of her too. It didn’t work. It didn’t because this was real. Murphy was standing right there, on the sidewalk with his hands shoved inside of his pockets. He was dressed in tan pants and a collared shirt. The same outfit he wore the first day they met. Or as close to it. 

“Murphy.” She hardly let out a whisper before she found herself tearing open the door, charging down the path and jumping into his arms. He let out a breath as he grabbed her, holding her in his arms as tightly as his arms would let him. 

Murphy pulled away just enough to kiss her, to kiss away the grief and sorrow. The pain she felt all those years. And the pain inside his heart from thinking he would never find her. He kissed her again and again and again, he didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever. She was in front of him. The woman he loved was really in his arms again. 

Clarke stopped, letting out a breath, and turned back to the house. Madi was standing there, a shy side of her coming out. Clarke gestured to her to come and she did. “Clarke…”

“It wasn’t long after they set us up in these small living quarters that I found out I was pregnant. I was surprised but so happy. I’ve had a part of you with me this whole time.” Clarke explained. Murphy looked at Madi in shock, then his lips turned upward as he leaned down. He had their eyes and his hair. Clarke’s eyelashes and his nose. He had a daughter. All these years he spent looking for Clarke, he never thought that he would be looking for something more. That there would be something more when he found her. But there was, and she was beautiful. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Murphy said cautiously, “do you know who I am?” Madi shook her head and clutched onto Clarke’s leg. He figured it would take some time, and his heart hurt knowing he missed out on so much. But he was also grateful he at least found them and could start somewhere.

Clarke leaned down with him, her hand on Madi’s back. “You know all those stories I told you about, on the ship? About how daddy and mommy met? Well...this is daddy.”

Madi had just as much confusion wash over her face that Clarke had when she saw him. She knew this was big for her daughter, it was huge for her. But Madi didn’t think too much into it because she had her arms around Murphy in seconds, screaming in his ear. Clarke laughed, watching Madi. 

It was a sweet moment and an even better day. If Clarke knew the years of heartache and torture of thinking about Murphy would bring them here, she’d let the panic attacks come with ease. Allow them to come and go as they did. 

She would let the cold water that froze her body every so often flow over her hands a little longer. And she would tell her daughter that her father was coming home one day. But that wasn’t how things worked, so when those days and nights happened, it was the worst pain Clarke had ever felt. 

Now Clarke could breathe. She could let go of all those things because somehow he had survived and he found them. He could be in her and their daughters' lives. 

Clarke would still feel the pain of that day, and remembering all the pain it brought for years. That wasn’t going to disappear just with the presence of Murphy. But she could work through it, they both would. And they would move on for themselves and Madi. 

Clarke showed him around the small house when they were finished. She showed him their rooms and the garden, the rocking chair she found for Madi as a baby. Every corner of the house had been shown off. When they came back down the stairs, Murphy had wandered over to their table where Clarke had mail from the previous day still sprawled across her spot. 

He noticed the change. The difference in that small sheet of paper. _Clarke Murphy_. He smiled. “What is this?”

He held up the envelope, the one from her doctors’ office. At first she was nervous that he was angry, or weirded out that she had gone about and done that. But the smile on his face confirmed that was wrong. 

Walking towards him, she took it from his hands, reading her name with his. “It’s a letter from my doctor.”

He bit his lip with a laugh, “You took my name?”

“Is there a problem that?” Clarke asked. He took in a long breath, then smiled once again. “Nope.”

“Well, good. ‘Cause I’m not changing it back.” They both laughed that time, and leaned into one another, sharing a long kiss. Clarke had wanted to do this just once more that night. To capture his lips in the softest kiss, to run her fingers through his hair while she stood on her toes. 

She got her wish. Only it wasn’t one last time, she had the rest of her life to do so. To wake up next to him, early kisses pressing into her neck while Madi barged in. She was ready for it. More than ready.

Her life was finally what she wanted. 

Her family was complete. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think !!
> 
> I have some other clurphy fics in the works at the moment (along with my WIP) so keep an eye out for that. You can also prompt me on some more clurphy fics through t100 fic for BLM. We’re always adding new prompts :)  
> [Check out the carrd here!](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co)


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